Till Kingdom Come
by NeverMineToHold
Summary: There is no such thing as 'cerebral recalibration'. - True or false?


Title: "Till Kingdom Come"

Status: OneShot; complete

Fandom: The Avengers (Movie)

Pairing(s)/Character(s): Clint Barton/Loki

Disclaimer: The Avengers belong to Marvel.

Rating: M

Genre: AU, post-movie, dubious consent, mind control

Warnings: unbeta'ed

Summary: There is no such thing as 'cerebral recalibration'. - True or false?

Note: You can find the MA rated version of this fanfiction over on AO3 (my name there is the same).

Till Kingdom Come

"Agent Barton, it would be in your best interest to cooperate. While I can understand how problematic these session's must be -"

"Lady, you don't know shit. Loki was inside my mind. He knew everything about me."

"_You have heart."_

"_Yours is such an useful talent."_

"He..."

_Made me teach him how to dismantle a gun. Pitted his throwing knives against my arrows and lost with a laugh. Kissed my lips and sucked my dick and allowed me to fuck him hard. Let me hold him until morning._

_It had felt like the place I had always searched for but never managed to find; not in the circus with my brother, not as a mercenary or later in S.H.I.E.L.D._

"I couldn't resist. There's no way you could understand that."

_There had been no reason to resist, not while it lasted. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I can look back now and be horrified, feel the blood on my hands, but I can't regret it. That had been _me_, what was left without rules and morals, the honed weapon and flawed human, and I followed Loki willingly. Like Nat. Like Fury._

"He took control over you. No one here blames you, we do understand that you had no way to resist his magic. We are merely concerned -"

"About what? That I run to his side the first chance I get? Go crazy and kill Director Fury?"

"Would you?"

"No. But then, I would say that either way, right?"

"Agent Barton, maybe it would be best to end todays session..."

XXX

Clint woke up panting, skin slick with sweat and legs tangled up in his sheets. He listened for a tense moment but heard nothing out of the ordinary, just the steady pace of the guards doing rounds and the Helicarrier's engines.

He knew he was alone, the bunk over his empty. Clint sighed and let his head fall back onto the damp pillow, rubbing his eyes until they burned.

"Lights."

Stark white flooded the room on his command. He couldn't remember his dreams, was only left with a vague sense of loss and anger. They had started three months ago, right after New York.

Clint cursed. There would be no more sleep for him tonight, not with this feeling of unrest crawling underneath his skin that made him tetchy and keep to himself even more so than usual. Not that he didn't have good reason to be pissed.

Natasha had taken to hovering in his shadow. She was worse than the shrink that kept on prodding because she knew how to make him spill his guts and judging by her scowl this morning her patience was wearing thin. She meant well, but Clint started to resent her for backing him into a corner.

Even worse was that he had lost Fury's trust.

The Director kept him on a short leash, not only revoking Clint's security clearance but reassigning him to take charge of the new agents. As soon as this batch was through Basic chances were that he would end up grounded at HQ; they wouldn't let a security risk run around doing field work.

Fury had said it wouldn't be permanent, but Clint knew better. He could perform perfectly, with no toe stepping out of line, but the black stain of being brainwashed by the enemy would always remain. This was S.H.I.E.L.D. No one was irreplaceable and his slate had been far from clean to begin with.

Clint's fist hit the wall with a hollow thunk, just hard enough to hurt, "Damn it, get a grip."

He slipped from his bunk and stretched. His muscles felt sore from the last training session and he shivered as the air dried the sweat on his skin. His clothes lay neatly folded on the only chair and he dressed quickly; combat trousers, drop-leg holster, black t-shirt and Kevlar vest, saving quiver and bow for last.

He put his earpiece in and left his quarters to prowl the Helicarrier's corridors like a caged animal, looking for something that was no longer there, not sure what he would do should he ever find it.

XXX

Clint passed by the guards without being seen, exploiting the blind spots of the security cameras with practiced ease, his feet carrying him unerringly to the lowest level of the airship. The detention area had been repaired two weeks ago, the cage designed to hold the Hulk replaced and ready to drop thousands of feet to certain death with the push of a button.

Nat wouldn't follow him here, not with the memory of Coulson's blood smeared on the far wall and Loki's spiteful words still haunting her. Not with her respecting his apparent need to mourn for a lost comrade, oblivious that anything but lured him here.

The reinforced glass shimmered green with the flash of control lights and Clint stepped closer. S.H.I.E.L.D had been so easily played. Sending the mercenaries down to set Loki free had been part of the ruse - the Asgardian could have used his magic at any time to slip away.

"Loki."

Clint's fingertip followed the sound of the name, writing the archaic shapes of Norse runes on the smooth surface.

It was part of his nightly ritual, to come here and whisper that name, hoping for an answer, fearing to get one. Waiting. He had worked through the stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression. That he was here must mean Clint had reached acceptance. This twisted feeling was nothing like grief yet it followed the same pattern.

What would Natasha say had she known that her 'cognitive recalibration' had done nothing Loki hadn't planned for?

The Tesseract was secure in Asgard, out of Thanos reach and Loki with it, the Avengers scattered, making Earth once again vulnerable – and Clint was in place to strike, the sleeper, barely aware of his mission until sunset, when the magic in his system flared.

A flicker drew his attention, a shadow caught in the glass that shouldn't have been there. It shifted, stretched to a smudge the size of a grown man and finally took shape.

Clint let his hand drop away from his earpiece, not sure when it had risen to alert the bridge, not sure why he didn't, and stepped closer. His breath fogged the glass, making the projection waver.

His stance shifted to parade rest. "Sir."

Loki inclined his head in greeting, "Agent Barton."

Clint could see a fine web of scar tissue surrounding the mage's eyes, covering the inflamed lids, while a fresher pattern of puncture wounds followed the shape of Loki's mouth.

"What happened?"

Loki's smile gained teeth, "My fathers means of punishment remain as barbaric as always. But do not worry for the marks will fade with time."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Loki's slender hand reached through the glass as if it were water. The surface rippled silver and cool fingertips caressed Clint's cheek. "You could kiss it better."

He didn't resist when Loki pulled him closer into an icy kiss that burned on his lips and tasted like winter, like raw magic and a hint of blood. It spread through him, cold and steady.

Loki's tongue left his mouth and Clint's world snapped back into focus, like a dislocated bone into its socket. The doubt was gone - he was himself again.

XXX

_Loki resented being Thanos puppet, even in appearance only, but he would not deny that the otherworldly fiend had opened pathways of magic that had once been closed to him, that he had given him power beyond his wildest dreams._

_Loki's research had borne fruit. And this human before him, the one he had heard so much about through the good Dr. Selvig, was worthy. A loyal subject would be needed for him to have any hope of carrying out his plan to free himself of Thanos._

_He restrained the humans hand with his own, careful not to shatter the fragile bone, feeling the futile strain of muscles in his grasp._

"_You have heart."_

_Loki brought his scepter up to touch the man's chest, symbolically aiming for his heart, though the magic went deeper than that, soul deep, its path glowing through skin and veins._

_Clinton Francis Barton would not vanish. A hollowed out husk would have been useless to Loki, so he had chosen a more fitting method, both elegant and efficient to the point of being irreversible. Nothing but this S.H.I.E.L.D agents perspective would be altered._

_Loyalties changed, as did friendships, evolving and decaying, and love grew brittle and bitter. These dark spots Loki's magic used – doubt, grief, heartbreak, hatred. Like a cool, soft breeze it crept into every crevice etched into this man's soul, every experience that had shaped him._

_And Loki himself would fill every hollow space his magic found, worm his way inside and fester, to shape a bond that nothing but death would break._

_It only took seconds for the darkness to gather in Clint Barton's blue eyes, to swallow them up and clear away. Loki had to cover his traces, though, so he wove a simple illusion that added the Tesseract's sheen to his archers gaze._

_Loki stepped back as Barton's aggression vanished and his stance relaxed, watched him holster his weapon and stand at ease; an arrogant smirk firmly in place._

_Let the games begin._

XXX

Loki pushed him back gently and Clint went, giving him space to step out of his own reflection. Once through the cage's surface smoothed out and stilled.

"I understand correctly that the Helicarrier is manned only by a skeleton crew?"

"Yes. Recovering the remains of Chitauri technology was given top priority, so they had to pull triple shifts to get the repairs done. Only one full unit of soldiers is on board, not counting the new agents."

Loki raised an eyebrow, "You do not think they will pose a threat?"

Clint smirked, "I trained them."

He followed Loki up the stairs, noting how the mage avoided to put weight on his left leg. Without a word Clint stepped around him to take the lead and reached for his bow. He moved slowly, placing his feet without making a sound and counted the seconds.

The sound of footsteps and a hushed conversation came closer.

The two men in their gray uniforms had not completely rounded the corner when Clint let loose his first arrow and notched a second. Both projectiles hit their mark, shattering the protective breastbone to rupture the beating hearts underneath. Miles and Shane had no chance to alert anyone before they hit the ground; red stained their shirts.

Clint dragged them out of sight and took their guns. Under the current conditions it would take at least thirty minutes until they would be missed. He led Loki up two flights of stairs and down another corridor; they avoided two more sets of guards. The bridge was close.

"Black Widow?" Loki inquired.

"Left for a mission twenty minutes ago. - Sir, what about Director Fury?"

Loki reached out and pulled his scepter from thin air. Wild magic the shade of his eyes ran along its length and the temperature in the corridor did a sudden nosedive.

"Kill him and everyone else who would dare oppose us. In the meantime I shall secure our future crew's loyalty." Loki hesitated, then gave Clint a rueful smile. "Truth be told it is a task rather more suited to my current condition."

Clint nodded at empty air – the mage had already vanished in a billowing trace of black-green smoke. With Loki out for the count he needed to get this done and quick.

The doors to the bridge swung open at his approach despite Clint's loss of clearance. He stepped through into the organized chaos.

The Director stood in front of a computer screen. "Agent Barton -"

This time he aimed for Fury's remaining eye.

XXX

Loki watched from the shadows as the arrow flew towards Fury's eye, wide-open with sudden horror, and right through the socket, to leave the skull in a spray of blood and brain. S.H.I.E.L.D's Director fell and the bridge erupted in screams and gunfire.

The fight, if one was inclined to call it thus, didn't last long. Six men and women survived, each forced to remain seated by Loki's will, though its power diminished more quickly than he would have preferred.

Nevertheless he had enough time to move from one to the other, subduing them with his scepter that bent their will into the shape of simple servitude. Tools to be discarded, unlike Clint.

XXX

"That was... rather anticlimactic, do you not agree?"

Clint relaxed when he saw Loki coming towards him, smirking and obviously pleased. He nodded and watched how the rest of the crew continued to work as if nothing had happened, focused on keeping the Helicarrier in the air.

"Yeah."

Clint moved to pull his arrow out of Jimmy's chest, the sharp head scraping over bone with a wet crunch. Then he bent down to collect the one that had killed Fury. He gave Loki a long once over, noting the dark shadows underneath eyes that had lost much of their vibrancy.

"I will deal with the rest."

"You should not go alone."

Clint tapped his earpiece, "We'll stay in contact. You can control the safety doors from here..."

"... so that you can pick them off one by one. Very well. But do not kill those that might come in handy later on." Loki's gaze became predatory as it roamed over Clint. "And after that is done we will... _rest_."

Clint felt a shiver rush down his spine and his cock stir in interest, "Yes, Sir."

XXX

The teasing tip traced his lips, gentle on fading wounds, and Loki opened his mouth in invitation. His hands wandered down over hot skin, nails digging into muscle, leaving the wet hair to pull his soldier closer. He sucked on Clint's tongue and felt a moan vibrate through their connected bodies like a shivering breath.

Where he tasted only of ice cold winter, Clint was filled with the sweet taste of cloying blood. He was so warm, human, each heartbeat a small death. Holding him in his arms, feeling him return the embrace, was like receiving a sacrifice, offered to honor the God of Lies.

They parted, but not fully, as Clint sucked on Loki's lower lip, only letting go in a playful nibble that would have burned from scraping teeth had he been human.

Clint's eyes were glazed for only a second, his body slightly overwhelmed by being fed raw magic with each touch, not used to the power that pulsed through him like the throes of ecstasy.

"Loki..."

His name was a sensual moan formed by mortal lips, calling to him like the hand that touched his hair and cupped his cheek. Loki followed the pull of digging fingers willingly, covering Clint's body with his, cooling the heat of a racing heart with the immortal beat of his own.

"Clint."

They kissed, but sleep called to his exhausted soldier, and Loki would not begrudge him his much needed rest, while his own energy had been restored. Clint's was a work well done and with S.H.I.E.L.D's Helicarrier in his possession, there were no more pressing matters to attend to.

"Rest now, my heart."

Loki's lips brushed Clint's temple, feeling him relax where he lay, curled up at his side, that warm breath fanning over his chest, the sheets and pillows a warm nest around them. Tomorrow they would be fierce and deadly, yet this night belonged to them, to spend it as themselves.

Unknown to mankind Loki was circling above them, invisible to their eyes and technology, not yet ready to strike, but fated to do so, with Clint by his side.

[Daniel 4:35: All the peoples of the earth are regarded as nothing. He does as he pleases with the powers of heaven and the peoples of the earth. No one can hold back his hand or say to him: "What have you done?"]

The End

R & R :)


End file.
